❝ You don't have to be so mean! ❞ The child barked, you bit your lip to suppress a giggle when the stranger looked baffled at the response. Though when he was about to react and send a petty remark, you managed to intervene between the two's raging hostility.
Clearing your throat, you replied. ❝ I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again. I was too distracted with the kids. . ❞
❝ It better not happen again, Nurse. . ❞ Glancing down at the name plate stuck on your chest, he looked up to give you a threatening glare to which you felt your skin taking it's own accord back as if wanting the ground to swallow you whole. He clenched his jaw, gripping the files in one hand tighter. ❝ Nurse [ name ], I assure you this is not the only time we'll be meeting. But the next time we do, I hope you already learned your lesson. ❞
With a sharp turn, he sent one last glare before making his way towards the elevator. Though this time, one of your brow was raised as a few disabled seniors asked what happened and if you were fine. That man was just pure and bland asshole. What's so bad on bumping into another person in a crowded place? It's not like it isn't supposed to happen especially with an ongoing event.
Why does it feels like it's not only our little bump meet–up made him so hot under his collar? You thought, clutching the little child who held onto you.
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Dear Stranger ,
Hi, the followings words are not written by force but wait–what?! No, actually. They are written by force, I'm a nurse and well– our hospital held this programme in which we are supposed to send letters to strangers knowing some are needing reassurance and many more you know? The percentage of suicide has increased of the year, this is the least we can do to help people out with no need of psychologist but a friend.
But hey hear me out, I would like to apologize because first. . My writing's not from the medieval times when it's awfully pretty because right now. . Mine's just awful and not pretty. Second of all, isn't this weird? Talking to strangers and all? I mean, you could be a serial killer for all I know. . Well for All I know anyone who receives any of our letters could possibly be an obsessed crazy guy or gal. And that, my friend, is something we cannot solve so if you are one. . Well . . Bye–bye.
I don't really know what to tell you, this has gotten so much weirder because I'm pretty sure I'm the last one who'll be dropping this mail off to a stranger. I've. . Never really you know, had anyone as my pen pal. Hell, I've never even sent someone a letter before. What do they usually write anyway? How is your day? Are you okay and what's your name? Is that how it's supposed to flow through? Because if yes, well then, I'm not so good as being a pen pal then. .
Anyway, right now– to where I live which I will not be telling you– it's sunny out which is rare. I'd like to make the most of it though, it's always raining and if not then it's just plain cold. I wonder what date you'll be receiving this letter, the doctors said that they'll be sending random letters on the entire world. But somehow. . I doubt that.
So anyway my friend, how about you tell me about yourself and then we'll just make the fun conversations from there? By the way I'm currently eating Pizza. . Just saying.
The Sexiest Gal Alive, Daisy
P.S., Daisy is my favorite flower, it's not my name lol.
Bewildered at the message Emmett received, her was about to crumple the paper and it's pieces down when his mother, Esmé came by. A smile on her lips as she placed a vase with daisies right with it. Emmett snarled at the plant, though his eyes went back to his mother who stiffled a chuckle.
❝ Why are you so mad at my daisy, young man? What's it ever done to you anyway? ❞ Esmé asked, brows raising as she tried to find a better place to put the flower vase. Emmett exhaled loudly, shaking his head and avoided his mother's question who soon had peaked her confused state and decided to see it herself.
After placing the flower on the living room's table, she walked over to where Emmett was– at the island of their dining room where she hastily crept over to see just enough and a huge cute logo that says ' Pen Pal ' before the letter started. Esmé shrieked from behind, to which Emmett jumped at the voice to.
❝ You have a pen pal! ❞ She beamed, walking over to the opposite side of the island to look at her son gently. Whose eyes only hardened as he tried not to tear the pieces of paper away, ever since Rosalie decided that she would rather roam around the world than stay in one family forever— Emmett became more tempered in things. Even the littlest ones.
Esmé leaned a little over, ❝ Well? Who is it? ❞
❝ Daisy. ❞ Emmett curtly responded, passing the letter towards his mother who was fast enough to read the sentences in which laughs would fall from her lips from time to time. A few nods from here to there until she folded the paper neatly and slid it on the marble counter to Emmett's way.
With a smile, she shared. ❝ Did you know that your Dad and I met through Pen Pal? It's crazy but it was so sweet. He helped me all throughout my depression and became my medicine, I'm happy he's more than just a medicine to me now. He's my husband, he's your father. Even from the littlest of things can spark a huge impact in your life. That's what makes it crazy. ❞
❝ Right. ❞ Emmett wasn't really interested in hearing that story to which his mother has shared over a few hundred times now. He just wanted to be left alone, that's for sure. It's been years since he had any conversation with humans, he used his own kind to pleasure him when he thinks he needs it most. But he stayed away from humans as far as possible, having no good reason why, he still decided to stay away.
Emmett fiddled with the paper when his mother ushered him, ❝ Well? Aren't you going to send a letter back? I've heard from your father that a few hospitals have agreed for this program and all of them wishes for nothing but good will happen and news of fortunate to arrive soon. ❞
Emmett tapped his fingers onto the marble top uneasily, he wasn't really interested on conversations nor was he interested in people nowadays. But he's bored, the least that he could do is write a letter back. Shrugging, he nodded at his mother who beamed and hugged her child–to which she then turned the other way to clean the dishes.
Standing up from his seat, he then took himself to his room to write.
